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Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

My Son Finds And Plays With Kitty Cats For A Living

May 24, 2013 at 11:21 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

I recently took you by my office on a Saturday morning while Mommy was buying groceries.

After all, it seems a little weird that though your daycare is just on the other side of the red light, you’ve never really gotten to see what it’s like inside that brown brick building where Daddy works.

Once you saw my chair and computer, you knew just what to do… except for that darn “Ctrl+Alt+Del” screen.

It wasn’t long before you realized you wouldn’t have the opportunity to watch any monster trucks on YouTube, so you got bored and wanted to watch me fill a Styrofoam cup with water in the break room.

Then, you were ready to go. So we left. (Granted, it was nice having my co-workers comment on you being a handsome little boy.)

And that’s my story about what it was like taking my 2 and a half year-old to work.

While that random Saturday morning may have seemed uneventful at the time, it wasn’t. It served as a model for you to follow in your playtime.

This week you scooted your new Thomas the Train trike down the hall into the living room and declared, “I go to work!”

You parked your “monster truck” (Thomas the Train trike) near the closet, then stood up, trying to figure out what pretending to work is supposed to look like.

“Jack, what do you do at work?” I asked.

Your response, with a clever smile:

“I play with kitty cats!” You ran over to your favorite plush cat doll and lifted it above your head like Link finding one of the fragments of the Triforce, then announced, “I found one!”

So from what I understand, your job is not only to play with kitties, but more importantly, finding them like Easter Eggs.

I don’t think you quite understand yet what Mommy and I do all day at work. For all I know, I figure you assume it’s like a daycare for adults.

Well, actually… maybe in some ways it is.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

I Am My Son’s Main Masculinity Model

May 22, 2013 at 10:36 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

This morning before I dropped you off at school, I told you I wanted to take a picture of you wearing your cool sunglasses for Nonna and Papa.

Without hesitation, this is how you posed:

You instantly crossed your arms like a classic tough guy!

How did you know to do that? It’s not something I’ve ever specifically taught you.

Yet somehow, you knew that because you were getting your picture taken with your black skull-and-crossbones sunglasses (which you identify as “robots”) you instinctively knew that meant to look as masculine as possible.

So you did.

After laughing about this picture all day, a deep thought finally crossed my mind:

I am your main model of masculinity. You get free testosterone lessons from me everyday.

That’s weird/interesting/humbling/cool.

Sure, I know the importance of you getting regular exposure to a positive male role model.

But this goes beyond that. In fact, it’s more subtle than that. The way I walk, talk, play, react… you’re catching clues from my daily performance.

You are learning to be a boy (and ultimately, a man) according to my free lessons.

I take it as a compliment that you are a strong-willed yet polite little boy. That’s pretty much what I’m aiming for.

It’s important to me that you are a true Southern gentleman when it’s all said and done.

I want to know you’ll always stand up for yourself and protect others, yet not be an instigator.

It’s no secret: I am raising and training you to be a leader among others.

Sure, I may err on the side of bravado here, but I love to see that at just 2 and a half, you already sort of remind me of the toddler version of Bruce Willis.

I can easily imagine you driving a motorcycle away from a fiery explosion; like in every cliche action movie trailer I’ve ever seen.

You’re the man.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

I Am The Childless Creepy Guy In The Park

May 22, 2013 at 10:00 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Because of my legitimate fear of developing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, I am trying to counteract the numbness in my left shoulder, wrist, and hand by working those muscles on a daily basis.

Therefore, last week I started a daily habit of stopping by the playground near my office to do pull-ups.

I imagine it’s quite a random sight at 1:15 every afternoon in Aspen Grove Park to see some random guy wheel in on his mountain bike, set down his book bag and helmet, do several pull-ups on the playground, then speed off into the distance.

Predictably, there are always a few moms with their young kids already there when I arrive.

My most awkward encounter so far happened about a week ago.

There was a grandmother with her daughter- a mom who was about my age, accompanied by her own daughter who was about your age.

In the non-creepiest way I knew how, I approached the 7 foot high monkey bars. Immediately, the three of them all looked up at me, seemingly concerned.

I felt the need to explain:

“Hi, I work in one of the offices nearby. I come here everyday now to do my pull-ups because I type all day on a computer, and this helps me.”

The grandmother responded:

“Well, thank you for explaining that…”. The tone and look on her face was completely serious. She meant what she was saying.

From that point, she began rationalizing out loud, trying to convince herself as well as her grown daughter, that I was there basically to “blow off steam” from the stress of working in an office.

That wasn’t the case at all. My job doesn’t stress me out at all. I love my job.

However, I felt it to be in my best interest to leave immediately, without trying to further justify my existence. So I did.

I’m too cheap to pay for a gym membership; not to mention, I’d rather be outside anyway, breathing fresh air and feeling the sunlight on my skin. So the combination of mountain biking and doing pull-ups on the playground is like a free gym membership to me.

Sure, it looks weird to onlookers, but the only rule I saw on the park sign was against people smoking there- not against adults showing up without a child.

For me, what this story reveals is that each parent has certain things they see as a red flag; some possible threat to their child’s safety and well-being. I know I’ve got mine. (And I’ve learned not to mention them on the Internet anymore!)

I’m just a harmless dad of a 2 and a half year-old son who is using the city park for a minute or two as part of his daily exercise routine. But that’s not how it looks to everybody. To some, I am the childless creepy guy in the park.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Trying On Daddy’s Shoes (And Mommy’s Too!)

May 1, 2013 at 10:29 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

I suppose it’s just universal that, as a little boy, you naturally like to try on your daddy’s shoes. I mean, it wasn’t that difficult for me to dig up a picture of myself in 1983, as a 2 year-old, wearing my dad’s boots. (Pictured above.)

You know it’s funny when you’re doing it, yet I can see you really like to imagine what it would be like to be my size.

Last week you turned to me randomly and said, “Daddy, you’re big? You’re big.”

I’m 5′ 9″, but hey, I’ll take the compliment.

This morning as we were all getting ready in Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom, you snuck into the closet.

I wasn’t really paying attention; not to mention, I was barely awake, but then I heard you laughing… like you knew you were being a rascal.

Turns out, I was right.

You proudly walked out to Mommy and me in your Sacramento State football player t-shirt, a diaper, and a pair of mommy’s heels.

Oh, and to top it off, you were holding your monster truck.

You were quite the walking contradiction, literally.

There are plenty of times when you are hilarious and don’t know why. Today was not one of those times.

So you are now looking at the new wallpaper on my cell phone. Well done, Son.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My Son’s Soft Serve Ice Cream Shoppe In The Potty

April 29, 2013 at 10:57 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Mommy and I recently bought you a 3-pack of Play-Doh that looks like Neapolitan chocolate chip ice cream.

After you experimented with it for a little while, transforming your plastic horsey into a dinosaur, and using the brown Play-Doh as mud that your monster trucks drive over and “got stuck” in, you eventually wandered off into the bathroom.

I was curious as to what was going on in there, but I gave you a few minutes of privacy.

Then you called for me…

As soon as I opened the door, you announced, “Hey Daddy, I make snacks for the kids!”

My favorite part about that moment wasn’t even the fact that your potty bowl was being used as the serving tray for the Play-Doh “ice cream” for young consumers.

Instead, it was that you assumed the role of the adult, and you assumed that “the kids,” who evidently are other kids your age, look forward to the glorious (and sanitary) ice cream treats you have waiting for them in the bathroom.

I try to picture a dozen 2 year-olds lining up at our front door, eager to get a taste of the delicious soft serve ice cream you serve from your potty.

You were so proud.

In your mind, you were quite the heroic adult.

 

Love,

Daddy